In Arms of Red and Blue
by katemary77
Summary: Superman saves a girl, stays for a cupcake and gets more than he bargained for. CKOC.
1. Cupcakes

In Arms of Red and Blue

_By katemary77_

_Summary: Superman saves a girl and stays for a cupcake. _

Margaret was bored.

Idly, she lifted a heap of thick, lemony sweet mixture from a bowl and spread it evenly across the top of a freshly baked muffin. With a small, childish grin, she dunked the iced cupcake into a bowl of bright, cheerful sprinkles and set it amongst its fellows on a tray of slightly less-than-perfect but colourful cupcakes; the fruits of her labour.

There. She was done. As of now, Margaret had completed her list of Things To Do When Bored. She had cleared out her closet, rearranged her shoes, clothes, books and CDs, curled her hair, painted her toenails, vacuumed her shared apartment, made cupcakes, _everything_ she could think of.

It was the first day of university holidays, and Margaret Moreton was bored.

Envisioning the next weeks, she let out a weary groan. Her roommates had left on vacation, her brother was travelling around Europe, and her parents lived upstate in New England. Completely alone and stranded, Margaret felt very, very alone. Even living in the middle of over-populated Metropolis, she reflected, it was quite easy to feel all by yourself.

Deciding she would take a walk, Margaret checked on the state of her rapidly frizzing hair and took a quick inventory of her fridge; figuring it was high-time she visited the corner store. Pushing a pair of sunglasses onto her face, she twirled her keys around her finger, locked her door and headed downstairs.

Facing the glowing sun that found its way through a jungle of skyscrapers to the quiet street Margaret lived on, she felt her spirits lift and Margaret smiled into the beautiful summer's day. So preoccupied with her brightening mood, Margaret failed to notice as she crossed the street that she was stepping across a manhole. Suddenly, she found herself lurching forward; the heel of her boot had caught firmly in the fingerspace of the manhole.

"Shit," Margaret groaned, bending down to untie the laces of her boots, which reached up to mid-calf. Her fingers fumbling, Margaret lifted her head to check the road upon which she crouched. "Double shit!" she exhaled, on the sight of the monstrous truck that was approaching her position rapidly. Hurriedly pulling at her laces, Margaret began to panic. Her shoe wasn't any looser, the truck was only metres away, she couldn't escape. Margaret submitted, raised her arms to cover her head and curled into herself. _This is it, this is the end, I'm going to die._

But the impact never came. Instead, Margaret found herself lifted from the road and into the air, held securely in arms of red and blue.

-----------------

Clark Kent whistled boredly and fiddled with the neck of his tight Superman suit.

"A slow Saturday," he mused, and let his legs dangle from the ledge on which he perched, atop a high building of Metropolis' skyline. Things had been relatively quiet all day; a fire which he had quickly put out, a car accident which he had quickly righted and a bank robber whom he had quickly sent packing. Little things, but things that would still headline tomorrow's _Daily Planet_, he knew.

And so Clark Kent, Superman, the Boy Scout in Blue, was resigned to sit and observe the crawling city that was Metropolis, keeping his ears and eyes out for any sign of trouble. Clark didn't really have anywhere else to be: Jimmy was busy with his new girlfriend, Martha was busy on the farm, and it wasn't his day to visit with Jason. Clark generally preferred to stay away from the happy family at the White-Lane residence (soon to become just the White residence) as much as possible. Some memories were to painful, he thought, and he didn't like to make life difficult between Jason and Richard.

Clark watched as a young woman exited an apartment on the street below, turning her face into the sun and giving an exultant smile. Clark could hear her sigh from where he sat. She wore a light summer dress with a dark red cardigan to keep away the chill of the afternoon breeze and a pair of tan boots that made a dull clunking noise as she ambled down the street. Clark watched her move and admired how the sun melted into her softly curled hair. The strange woman's mood was infectious and Clark found himself grinning with her as she crossed the street, swinging her arms gently as she went. His grin faded, however, when the woman's boot caught in the road and she began frantically pulling at the laces, fully aware of the truck speeding down the street.

Quickly, Clark stood and swooped down to the street, wrapping his strong hands around her waist and lifting her (and probably a sizeable chunk of the road, too) into the air and away from harm.

"Are you okay?" he asked urgently, and felt her nod against him, even as her arms twined around his neck and chest.

"I'm okay."

Clark was headed in the direction of the nearest flat rooftop, for he knew that flying often made people uncomfortable, when the woman in his arms suddenly let out an unexpected scream.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, startled.

"Nothing," she laughed, and he recognised her scream was not one of fright but one of excitement. "This is just so fantastic! Flying!"

Clark chuckled deep in his throat and agreed, "It is. Would you like me to set you down now?"

She nodded again, and her frizzy hair tickled against his chin.

Clark brought her to the top of the building he had sat upon before and gently placed her on her feet. The woman took a few moments, her hand pressed into her chest, to calm her breathing.

"That was... exhilarating," she eventually said, offering Clark a bright smile.

"It always is," he replied. "Are you okay?"

"Definitely," she nodded. "Thank you, by the way." Clark was charmed by the blush on her cheeks. "If you hadn't have come I probably would've died."

"I find it's best not to think of things like that," he cautioned her. "Well, I best be off."

Clark made to depart, but was stopped by a soft touch on his arm.

"Wait," she breathed. "Would you – would you like a cupcake?" she asked. "It's the least that I can do."

Clark grinned at the deepening red of her face. Did he want a cupcake? He laughed inwardly, musing that this was the first time that someone he had saved had offered him a cupcake. _Well, it's not as if I have anywhere else to be…_

"Uh… I'm sure I left my window open."

Clark grinned. "What kind of cupcakes?"

-----------------

Margaret giggled internally at the absurdity of this situation. Superman was sitting in her kitchen, cupcake in one hand and glass of milk in the other.

"These are good," he commented. "I haven't had homemade cupcakes in a long time…" he purposely left his sentence hanging, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Thank you," she smiled. "And my name is Margaret."

"Margaret," he seemed to say to himself, before smiling brightly. "That's a pretty name."

She nodded. "So is Superman."

The Kryptonian grinned. "Not very original, is it."

Margaret shook her head and laughed.

"Well, in my defence, I was 16 years-old and very confused," he explained with a wry smile. "'Superman' was the best thing I could come up with at the time and well… I guess it stuck. So what do you do, Margaret?"

"I'm a student," she told him. "At the University of Metropolis. I'm in my third year of medicine, actually."

"That's a very noble profession," he commented.

"So is saving the world."

"Touché."

Margaret took a moment to survey the man in her kitchen. Although many of Metropolis' citizens had seen Superman close up, Margaret had moved to the city during his five-year absence and since he had returned, had only seen his image in the magazines and newspapers of the city.

They didn't do him justice, she decided.

Superman was… well, super. He was one of the taller men Margaret had come across, was built like a brick wall and had the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. His face was chiselled and handsome and a chestnut brown lock of hair curled in the middle of his forehead. He was, perhaps, the best-looking man she had ever met, and was grinning at her quite cockily.

Margaret lifted a hand to her cheek. "I'm blushing again, aren't I?"

Superman nodded, a twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, you are."

She laughed, a little breathlessly, and grinned at the coloured sprinkle surreptitiously attached to his bottom lip, trying desperately not to imagine what he would do if she swooped over and licked it off.

"Well," he began, standing and brushing his hands of cupcake crumbs. "I best be off. People to save… you know how it is."

Margaret smiled and pushed her hair behind her ears, walking him over to the window. "Of course."

"Thank you for the cupcake, Margaret."

She shrugged. "Thank you for saving my life."

Superman paused at the window and turning, giving her a piercing look. Stepping forward, he let his hand run down the side of Margaret's face. She shivered at the soft touch. He brushed a thumb over her plump bottom lip and smiled.

"Goodbye, Margaret."

"Goodbye."

She stood and watched him leave, disappearing into the sun and air.

That night, her dreams would lie in arms of red and blue.

--------------

I could very easily write more to this. I sense a CKOC coming on here, but I'm not sure that people are interested in reading fics other than CKLL. Let me know if you like it, and I'll probably write more.


	2. Cravings

In Arms of Red and Blue

_By katemary77_

_Summary: Superman saves a girl, stays for a cupcake and gets more than he bargained for. _

Days later, Clark could not get the sweet, tangy taste of Margaret's cupcake out of his mouth. He had tried everything; water, tea, coffee, coke, he had eaten in five different restaurants in five different countries, but he couldn't get her sweetness out of his mouth.

"Clark, is something wrong?"

Clark jumped. Lois, leaning against the division between their offices with a quizzical brow, laughed.

"No, no, I'm fine," he assured her. "Why?"

"That's the fifth pack of mints you've gone through today," she commented.

Shrugging, Clark replied, "I just have a funny taste in my mouth, that's all."

Lois nodded and sunk back behind the divide.

"I need a cupcake," Clark growled low under his breath.

"What, Clark?" Lois asked, standing and giving him a penetrating glare.

"Nothing, Lois," he assured her. "I think I'm going to take my lunch break. Is that okay?"

Five minutes later, Clark Kent was out of the building and in the air.

------------------

"_If you will thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you." Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause her companion added, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever." _

Margaret sighed and carefully placed her well-worn copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ on the bed beside her. She loved this book, always had, and Darcy's final proposal always made her cry. Sniffling into a tissue, Margaret took a moment to laugh at herself. How silly, a fully-grown woman snivelling over the soppy end to the romance she had read at least seventeen times.

"Margaret, you sad, sad woman," she grumbled. Every time was the same, she would finish and dream that one day a handsome, noble man like Mr. Darcy would find her and sweep her off her feet and they would live happily ever after. "Well," she supposed, "Better than dreaming about a man who wears tights…"

Since her encounter with Superman, Margaret had found it difficult to think of anything else. Joining the ranks of women who viewed the Kryptonian saviour as the ultimate heartthrob, she had spent the last two days revisiting every moment of their short time together; the way his strong hands had felt around her waist, the exhilaration of flying, safe so close to his body, and the way his thumb had lingered over her lips as he had said goodbye. She wondered – and was quite embarrassed to admit it, even to herself – if she would ever see him again.

A crash from her kitchen startled Margaret from her daydreams. Fluidly, she slid from her comfortable bed and firmly grasped the baseball bat she kept in her closet. Creeping as quietly as she could, Margaret slunk through her hallway and into the kitchen, lifting the bat and bringing it down as hard as she could on her intruder before she'd taken a good look at him.

The bat splintered into a million pieces in her hand, and Margaret lifted her eyes to find a tall, blue and red clothed man smirking amusedly at her, not a hair out of place.

"Superman!" she cried, finally, suffering perhaps from a mild case of shock. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were a thief! Are you okay?"

He nodded silently, brushing pieces of wood from his tight suit.

Margaret quirked an eyebrow. "Superman," she began, "Are you… are you stealing my cupcakes?"

Margaret was astonished (and quite pleased) to find that Superman _could_ get flustered.

"I wasn't… well, I was… I mean, I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth and I tried everything… goodness, I even ate some wasabi in Japan, to get the taste out but nothing would work and…" He levelled an even look at Margaret, who was trying very valiantly not to laugh. He scowled. "Yes, Margaret, I was stealing your cupcakes. Do you mind?"

She burst into laughter. "Would you like a glass of milk, too?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Okay. Thank you."

"For what?" she asked. "Not pressing charges? Imagine the headlines, 'Superman Goes Bad: Caught Stealing Cupcakes From Defenceless Woman's Kitchen.' The people at the _Daily Planet_ would have a field day."

Superman shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, I wouldn't say you were defenceless," he joked, with a pointed look at her splintered baseball bat.

She laughed. "Yeah, fat lot of good it did. You really are made of steal aren't you?"

He shrugged a little and munched on his cupcake. When he was finished, Margaret stood and rinsed the plates and glasses in the sink.

"Thank you," he said again in his clear baritone. Turning away from the sink, Margaret gasped. He had stood and approached slowly until he was close behind her. Even with her 5'10", she still had to tilt her head back to view him properly. "Would you like to go flying?" Superman asked. At her silence, he continued. "It's the least I can do, after sneaking into your kitchen to steal baked goods."

She laughed and nodded. "I would like that."

"Someone might see us," he cautioned. "The media… is always taking photos of me."

Margaret shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Okay." Gently, he guided her to the window. "Are you sure?" His lips twisted into a smirk. "You're not scared, are you?"

Margaret grinned. "Never."

----------------

Clark was trying desperately hard to not think of how _nice_ it felt to hold a woman in his arms, without the weight of forgotten goodbyes and broken promises. With Margaret, standing in the air above the world, everything seemed simple. Her eyes glistened with awe as she took in the magnificent sight of Metropolis from the amazing height that Clark had taken her to.

"This is amazing," she whispered, but Clark heard her as clear as day. "If I could do this, if I could fly," she looked at him in wonder, "I would never leave the air."

Clark frowned. "I wish I didn't have to, you know," he told her. "But, unfortunately, even Superman has to make a living."

Margaret leaned back to look at him properly, and Clark took a moment to be amazed at how comfortable she was in the air with him. "You mean you have a job?" she asked incredulously. "Superman has a job?"

Clark shrugged. "Before I'm this," he said, trying to articulate himself clearly, "Before I'm Superman, I'm just a man."

Her brow furrowed and Margaret freed a hand to smooth down his wayward hair. "Just a man," she said quietly, almost under her breath, as she turned back toward the view of Metropolis. "I think people forget that."

Clark let out a low breath. This woman seemed to understand him better than most. "Yes, I think they do."

"But, if you're just a man," she mused, turning to look at him again, "Well, that must be very hard."

Clark thought of Jason, how he could never truly be a father, and of Lois, how she could never truly love him and agreed silently with Margaret. Yes, it was very hard.

----------------

"Clark! Where've you been?" Before he could form a reply, Perry White was already continuing over the top of him, dragging Lois, Jimmy and Clark into the boardroom. "Never mind that, I have work for you! Jimmy finally managed to take a good photo of Superman – " Clark shot a furtive glance at Jimmy, who shrugged helplessly – "And I want you and Lois investigating it immediately."

"Of course, Mr. White, what's the photograph of?" Clark enquired, his stomach sinking at the thrilled expression creeping onto his boss's face.

Perry slapped a glossy photo down onto the desk and announced gleefully, "Superman: A New Woman?"

Clark and Lois bent over and examined the image: Superman was floating amongst the tallest skyscrapers of Metropolis, a young woman with frizzy blonde hair wrapped in his strong embrace. Clark sighed and Lois let out a high-pitched gasp.

"Who is she?" the fierce reported demanded, and Clark raised his eyebrows. Was Lois jealous?

Perry shrugged. "We don't know yet and you two are going to find out. We know that Superman saved a young woman whose description fits this girl a couple of days ago on Olivier Street. I want you to go there now to find out what you can."

Clark and Lois nodded. "Sure, Mr. White, we'll get right on it."

Clark saw Lois roll her eyes derisively at his Southern politeness, before she raced from the room.

"Lois, wait!" Clark called, hurrying to catch up to her.

"What, Clark?" she said shortly.

Clark was taken aback for a moment; she had always been short with him, but somehow it stung more this time.

"Nothing," he sighed. "I'll meet you at the elevators in a few minutes." She nodded curtly and stalked into her husband's office. "By the way, Lois," Clark muttered under his breath, "I'm Superman!"

Twenty minutes later, Clark was hurrying to catch up with Lois as she marched purposefully down Olivier St.

"I'm going to question the owners of that shop," she told him, pointing to a corner shop down the street. "You stay here and… keep a look out."

Clark sighed and, momentarily distracted by his slipping sunglasses, walked into a fire hydrant.

"Damn it!" he cursed, as his glasses slipped from his face onto the pavement below, where they cracked miserably into pieces. Lois threw him an exasperated look over her shoulder and continued down to the shop. Bending, Clark began to collect the pieces of his specs.

"Are you okay?" a soft voice asked, and Clark turned to see Margaret standing behind him, her hair still windswept from their trip into the stratosphere.

"Yes," he answered finally, allowing her to guide him gently to a nearby stoop.

"Here, sit down," she told him firmly. "Don't worry, I'm a doctor – well, almost a doctor." She grinned. "So I won't hurt you. Can you see anything?"

Clark laughed and shrugged. "A little. I have a spare pair in my briefcase, though." Pretending to fumble blindly, Clark opened his briefcase and pulled out his spare pair of specs, pushing them carefully onto his face. "There, that's better." He turned to her and smiled.

She returned the grin. "This mustn't be the first time you've broken them; if you keep a spare in your case."

Clark nodded. "I'm a clumsy guy."

"Is your leg okay?" Margaret asked next. "You gave it a pretty hard whack."

"I'll live," he reassured her. "Thank you very much, by the way. Not everyone would've stopped."

"Well, as I said, I'm almost a doctor. Helping people is my living," she joked.

_So is mine,_ Clark thought wryly. _Speaking of which… _

"Look, this is going to sound weird," Clark began, "But I'm a journalist for the _Daily Planet _and my partner and I are here investigating a woman recently seen with Superman." Clark noticed the change in her demeanour immediately and held up a hand to quell her response. "Somehow I don't think you're the type of person who gossips about her friends, so if you can get out of here quickly, I'll tell my partner you were unavailable… or something."

Margaret looked at him a moment before nodding. "That's very good of you. Thank you."

Clark shrugged. "Just returning a favour. Thanks again for helping me out."

"No worries," she smiled, alighting the porch and starting on her way. "Goodbye."

She had walked two metres before Clark called out. "Wait, Mar – Miss," he said, stopping himself just in time. She turned and gazed at him, a question in her eyes and mouth. Clark descended the stairs toward her. In a moment he thought of Lois' shortness, saw her disappearing into Richard's office, and remembered the feeling of Margaret under his hands. "Would you – would you like to have a cup of coffee sometime? This evening, maybe?"

Margaret grinned. "Okay, Mr..."

"Oh! I'm Clark, Clark Kent," he told her, extending his hand.

"Margaret Moreton," she told him, giving his hand a firm shake. "Do you know the coffee house on the corner of Coulson and Boylson?" she questioned.

Clark nodded, "Yeah, I know it."

"I'll see you there… say 5:30?"

He nodded again, beginning to back away from her toward the corner shop, where Lois would be waiting. "Okay, Margaret. I'll see you there. 5:30."

"Careful!" Margaret laughed when he walked into a dustbin. "I'll see you later."

Clark nodded and she turned, walking away down the street. He watched her until not even his super-vision could see her anymore.

------------------

Margaret closed the door behind her and sighed softly, untwining the long, silky scarf from around her neck. She had just been on what was perhaps the best date of her life. She had met young, strapping Clark Kent for coffee and they had talked for hours over countless lattes and cappuccinos, about their lives back at home, about school, art, politics, travel everything they could think of. Afterwards they had walked through Metropolis Park and when Clark had shyly put his arm over Margaret's shoulders, she had never felt safer, even in arms of red and blue. When she had yawned tiredly, Clark had apologised profusely for keeping her late and – ever the gentlemen – had walked her to her apartment door.

"Thank you, Clark," she had said softly. "I had a wonderful time."

"So did I." Clark had leant forward and she had tilted her face, half-expecting a goodnight kiss, but he had only smiled, brushed his thumb against her lips, and disappeared down the stairwell.

Margaret sighed again and moved into the kitchen, where she stopped suddenly, before letting out a startled peal of laughter. The window was open, her flimsy curtain swaying in a breeze. Propped against the window was a baseball bat, a note attached – "_For next time_." And the cupcake she had placed upon the sill was gone.

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Thank you everyone who reviewed! Please do so again! Hope you liked this chapter :P


	3. Conversations

In Arms of Red and Blue

_By katemary77_

_Summary: Superman saves a girl, stays for a cupcake and gets more than he bargained for. _

Margaret sighed morosely and flicked another page of _Cardiology: The Way to the Heart_, rolling her eyes heavenward at another tiny-text filled page.

"I'm so _bored_," she whined quietly, but soon resigned herself to the hefty medical text; after all, no one forced her into medicine.

Five pages later, Margaret was delighted to hear the phone ringing and jumped at the possibility of a distraction. She fell over herself in a rush to get to the phone and when she answered was distinctly out of breath. "H-hello?"

"Margaret?" a soft, hesitant baritone asked. "Are you okay?"

"Clark!" Margaret near squealed, simultaneously cringing at her eagerness. "Yeah, I'm fine, just bored stiff. You're my hero!" she joked. "You've saved me from the perilous clutches of _Cardiology: The Way to the Heart_, and trust me, it's not as exciting as the title suggests."

Clark chuckled over the phone, "Well, I'm always happy to help."

There was a small, not uncomfortable silence as Margaret curled into the sofa. "I'm glad you called, Clark," she said quietly, unsure.

There was a slow exhale over the phone. "So am I."

Margaret grinned and pushed a hand through her thick, honeyed hair. "So what's going on at the _Daily Planet_? Any headlining news on our favourite Man of Steel?"

Clark cleared his throat. "That's one of the reasons I called, actually. I thought I should warn you; Lois is planning on coming back to investigate you again, I wouldn't be surprised if she payed your apartment a visit."

"She knows where I live?" Margaret asked, trying to keep her disappointment at his reason for calling out of her voice.

"Well, apparently someone saw Superman flying into a window of your apartment block. I imagine Lois is going to question anybody who comes out the doors of your building. Do you think you can get away?"

Margaret thought for a moment before replying. "Clark, wouldn't it be better if I just let her question me, give her something so she gets off my back?"

"Maybe," he answered. "Actually, that's probably a good idea. I know Lois Lane; you'll be hounded by her day and night until she gets an interview. Do you want me to come with her?"

"Wouldn't that get you in trouble?" she asked and Clark laughed.

"Yes, actually it would. What are you going to say?"

Margaret sighed into the phone. "I have no idea. The truth, I guess. Superman saved me, I invited him in for a cupcake, we talked."

"A cupcake?"

Margaret sniggered. "I make a damn good cupcake. And yes, before you ask, it was incredibly bizarre. Superman in my kitchen with a cupcake and a glass of milk."

"I can imagine." There was a silence and Margaret sensed that Clark was working up to something. She wasn't disappointed. "Do you like him?"

Margaret shrugged and then remembered he couldn't see her. "He's Superman. He saved my life, took me flying." She thought she heard a resigned sigh from the other end of the line. "But no, I don't like him like that." Margaret balled her fists and worked up her courage. "At the moment I have this crush on a farm boy from Smallville." Margaret closed her eyes tightly, awaiting Clark's answer. She was astounded at how much he made her feel like a love-struck teenager.

"Well," he said eventually. "That's good, because I have a hunch that he's about to ask you out again." Margaret breathed an audible sigh of relief and Clark laughed. She had to restrain herself from breaking out into a victory dance. "You're a brave woman," he commented. "Are you blushing?"

She grinned. "I think so. You?"

Margaret shivered at the deep laugh he let out. "Definitely. So about this date. Do you know a man named Henry Drumor?"

"Doctor Drumor?" Margaret asked. "Of course I know him, he's one of my teachers at the university."

"Well," Clark continued, "There's a gala being held for him tomorrow night and my boss wants me to cover it. Would you – would you like to come with me? I know I'll sort of be working so it won't really be a _date_ per se, but I thought you might be interested because he's a doctor and one of your professors and – "

Margaret laughed and cut off Clark's rambling. "I'd love to come. When will you pick me up?"

Margaret could almost feel his grin. "Six tomorrow evening?"

"That sounds perfect."

"Okay," he replied. "Okay."

"You said that already," she reminded him and he chuckled. "Is it black tie?"

After giving the affirmative, Clark sighed. "Well, I best be off. Lot's to do. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I look forward to it," she smiled. "Bye, Clark." Only a moment after hanging up the phone, Margaret let out a great whoop, leaping onto her couch and jumping up and down, punching her hands into the air. "Yes! Yes, yes, _yes_!" Flopping down onto the couch, Margaret let out a great breath of air. A moment later, however, Margaret's eyes grew wide and she sat up with a startled gasp. "What am I going to _wear_!"

------------------

Lois Lane's black heels clipped professionally against the tiled lobby as she moved towards the elevator of 246 Olivier Street. Entering the lift, she promptly pressed floor number 12 and dug impatiently through her bag for her recorder and notepad while she moved up in the building. This was the right place, she knew, and was a little excited at finally catching her prey. While a little annoyed that Perry continued to hand her all Superman-related articles when there were such better stories out there, Lois admitted (at least to herself) that she was insanely interested in finding out just who "Superman's New Woman" was.

Knocking on apartment number 5, Lois listened intently to what sounded like someone stumbling clumsily to the door before it opened, revealing the same young, blonde woman seen in the arms of Superman. She was frazzled; clearly she had run to the door in a rush without taking the time to compose herself. Lois raised an eyebrow disdainfully at her appearance. The woman was wearing two dresses, one on the top half of her body and the other on the bottom, a different shoe on each foot and a different earring in each year. On seeing Lois, however, the woman straightened, her ridiculous outfit belied by the confidence she now exuded.

"I was wondering when I'd be seeing you," she said, holding the door open. "Come in, Miss Lane." Lois nodded and followed her into a well-kept, homey apartment. "Give me a moment to change." The woman gestured to her clothes and gave a wry grin. "I'm trying to pick an outfit for a date tomorrow night. I'll just be a minute."

Lois' eyebrows rose again. She had a date? Perhaps this woman wasn't _with _Superman like everyone had assumed. As she left the room, Lois took a moment to take in her apartment. The walls were a very pale green, bedecked with charcoal sketches seemingly by the same artist. They were good, Lois reflected, moving forward to make out the scribbled name, "Margaret Moreton," on the corner of each artwork.

"I was an art major before I transferred to medicine." Lois turned. Margaret had changed into a pair of worn jeans and a red t-shirt. "Would you like something to drink?"

Lois shook her head. "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind, and then you can get back to choosing your outfit."

Margaret nodded and sat down, gesturing to the chair beside her, but Lois shook her head. She preferred to stand when interviewing; she found it gave her a position of power. "How did you meet Superman?" she began, flipping open her notebook and ensuring her recorder was on.

"I was crossing the street, my heel caught in the road," Margaret relayed. "If he hadn't of pulled me out, I would've been hit by a truck. I was grateful, obviously, so I invited him to come inside for a cupcake."

"And he just came?" Lois asked, disbelievingly.

Margaret shrugged. "I guess it was a slow day."

Lois scribbled into her notebook. "And have you seen him since? What about Monday, when you went flying with him?"

She shrugged again. "He came back." A smile crept on to Margaret's face. "He wanted more cupcakes."

Lois couldn't help herself; she snorted. "Superman? Superman came to your house for _cupcakes_."

Margaret stood, and Lois realised what an advantage standing had been; the other woman was at least a head taller. "Look, Miss Lane," she bit out curtly, "You've come in here, uninvited, questioning my personal life to put on display for tomorrow's headline. I don't have to tell you anything and you can go back to the _Daily Planet_ with an empty article." Margaret gestured to the door, and Lois backed down.

"I appreciate your co-operation," the reporter soothed. "Thank you for speaking to me. I understand that I'm prying into your personal life and I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Placated, Margaret sat. "So he took you flying?"

Margaret nodded. "Yes. And we talked." She shrugged. "That's all. We just talked. Person to person."

Lois was intrigued, unsure that she had ever entered into a conversation with the super hero without a direct objective in mind. They had never just _talked_. It was always interviews or Superman saving her once again or Lois prying for questions about his life. Just talking to Superman was an alien idea. "What about?"

Margaret shook her head. "I think that's personal. If you want to know, I guess you'll have to ask him."

Lois gave a dry smile. "I might just do that. So you just talked?"

Margaret was quiet for a moment, thinking, before she replied. "He's holding the whole world on his shoulders, Miss Lane. Wouldn't you need someone to talk to?"

Lois nodded and packed up her things. "Thank you for your time, Miss Moreton."

"Of course." Margaret walked Lois to the door and watched her down the hallway, but Lois stopped halfway to the elevator and turned.

"The green one," she said.

"Sorry?"

"Your dresses," Lois clarified. "I liked the green one."

Margaret nodded and gave a smile; an honest smile. "Thanks."

Lois grinned back at her. "No problem. Have a good night."

And she disappeared into the elevator.

-----------------

Clark sighed as he left the office; it had been a long day. Perry had been constantly on his back about the gala tomorrow night and Clark constantly had to escape the office to help people in need. He was exhausted. A month after the earthquake that Lex Luther had caused, there was still considerable damage to Metropolis. Unsafe buildings were in use, leaving Superman to come to the rescue when they collapsed and trapped scores of people. He hadn't been sleeping – didn't have time to – and Clark felt four weeks of sleeplessness begin to catch up to him. But all this was nothing new, really. Clark had been in similar situations before when great catastrophes had struck the world; running purely on adrenaline and reserved strength, but this time was different. This time he was emotionally exhausted as well. Clark shed his clothes and took to the air; there was only one person he wanted to see right now.

"Ma! I'm home!"

Only minutes later, Clark emerged from his childhood room –now dressed in simple country clothes – and found his mother waiting for him in the living room. He swept her into a hug and felt the comfort only a mother could give seep into his bones.

"My boy," she said fondly, brushing a hand through Clark's hair. "How are you? I've been watching the news; you've been very busy."

Clark nodded and sat, joined on the couch by his mother. "Yes, there's always something to do."

"Don't exhaust yourself, Clark," she cautioned. "Even you can't be everywhere at once."

Clark nodded and sighed. "But so many people need me, Ma. How can I just leave them?"

"We survived without you for five years," Martha replied sternly. "People will do fine without you. How's everything at the _Daily Planet_?"

Clark smiled. "Fine, Mom. Everything's going fine." He was silent for a moment, wondering if he should tell her. "I met someone," he said finally.

"Oh? And who did she meet?"

Clark grinned; his mother always got right to the point. "She met both, actually. And, weirdly enough, I think she likes Clark better."

Martha hit Clark lightly on his shoulder and he had to remember to give a little, so she wouldn't break her hand.

"Don't be ridiculous, Clark, you're a wonderful person even when you don't have the cape on. I'm glad someone else finally realised it."

Clark heard the scorn in Martha's voice and knew it was directed at a certain reporter. "I don't know, Mom. What about Lois?"

As he expected, Martha's face hardened; she had never quite forgiven Lois Lane for ignoring Clark Kent and loving Superman. "Do you still love her?"

Clark shook his head. "I don't know anymore. She has a family, she has a _son_."

"_Your_ son," she reminded him.

"I know," he replied quietly. "She has a happy life. I can't disrupt that to ask her to be with a man who can't always be there, can't always love her."

"Then let her be with Clark."

Clark laughed. "She would never love Clark, I'm not sure she even sees him. All she loves is the cape."

Martha brushed his hair back and held her son-in-everything-but-blood close. "You can't give half of yourself to her, Clark, that isn't right. It isn't _love_."

Clark nodded, "I know. How can she love me when she doesn't even know me? But she can't know me because she wouldn't love me." Clark laughed again, without amusement. "Catch 22."

"What about this other girl? What's her name?"

"Margaret," Clark replied, a small smile curving his lips. "She's going to be a doctor."

Martha stood. "I think you should see where it goes, Clark. You never know, maybe she'll be the woman to love all of you."

Clark stood as well. "Maybe. Can I stay for dinner?"

"Anything for my son."

-------------------

Margaret glanced over her shoulder warily and dug her hands further into the pockets of her jacket; it was summer but a cool breeze was blowing from the sea. She hated walking home through Metropolis this late at night and cursed herself for not checking the time earlier. Margaret had been at her favourite café on the corner of Coulson and Boylson, sketching away in a notepad, oblivious to the world and the increasingly late time. It was only when a waiter informed her that they were closing up that she realised it was almost midnight. Margaret picked up her pace and straightened her shoulder, hoping that the appearance of confidence would deter anybody looking to rob her or worse.

"You know, it isn't safe for a young lady like yourself to be walking alone this late at night."

Margaret smiled, but didn't turn. "But with you around, I'm always safe." She heard a deep chuckle. "Have you come for more cupcakes?"

She turned slowly as he replied. "Not today. I'm full of cherry pie."

Margaret examined him closely and gave a mockingly shocked gasp. "Stealing baked goods from another woman? Superman how could you!"

He laughed and moved closer. "My mother." At her quizzical look, he clarified. "Well, my adoptive mother. We had dinner."

"How cute," she grinned. "Thanks for the baseball bat, by the way."

"Well, I figured you had to have something to defend yourself and your cupcakes with. Will you come with me?" he extended a hand, his eyes earnest.

Margaret placed her small hand in his larger, stronger one and replied, "Of course." Soon, they were in the air.

"I spoke to the press," she said quietly as he flew her high above the city. "A reporter from the _Daily Planet_ came to my house. I wasn't sure if I should, but a friend of mine – a reporter – agreed that it would be best to just get it over with."

He nodded. "A reporter friend?"

Margaret grinned and ducked her head down, knowing that he could see her blush, even in this light. "Well… maybe more than a friend. I don't want to jinx it." There was a short pause. "It's a beautiful night," she said finally, looking out over the illuminated city.

"It is," he agreed, but didn't move his eyes from her face.

She watched the city and he watched her face for a silent moment before she yawned, quickly raising a hand to cover her mouth. "I'm sorry!" she said, her cheeks reddening. "You're showing me the world and I'm yawning. I guess it's been a long day." She smiled sheepishly.

Superman laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'll take you back now."

"Thank you, Superman," she said as he set her down in her apartment. He simply smiled. "Is there – is there something else I can call you?" she asked haltingly. "'Superman' is a little… cumbersome."

He thought for a moment before replying. "Kal-El."

"Kal-El?" she confirmed, rolling the words around her tongue.

He nodded. "It's my… well, I guess it's my real name."

"Okay," she said quietly. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he smiled, before taking to the air. "Good night, Margaret."

"Good night, Kal-El."

He smiled, waved, and then was gone.

-------------------

Thank you to everybody who reviewed! The response to this story has been amazing. I'm sorry for the short delay; inspiration was running late. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! And please review! It keeps me going.


	4. Chapter 4

** A/N: **Man oh man am I sorry... I started writing this story on a whim during the holidays of my very last year at school and after holidays were over, had very little time to do anything but study, eat and sleep... I'm so sorry. Everyone showed such an amazing response to this fic when I started writing it, I'm literally blown away by you all, and I really did something that I hate other people doing when I neglected to update for so long... I'm not sure how often this is going to get updated, but I promise it'll be much less time than it's taken to put this chapter up. So sorry again and I hope this chapter makes up for it at least a little...

In Arms of Red and Blue

_By katemary77_

_Summary: Superman saves a girl, stays for a cupcake and gets more than he bargained for. _

Clark knocked lightly on the door to Margaret's apartment, straightening his tie and smoothing down his suit jacket. He was nervous – he was _so_ nervous – but he tried not to let it show.

"Coming!" Margaret called from the apartment and Clark had to stop himself from looking through the door to see her, instead turning around to face the blank wall opposite her apartment. He pushed his glasses further onto his nose and shook himself slightly. _Why am I so nervous? __I've been on dates before,_ he reminded himself. _Come on, Clark, you're _Superman_ for pity's sake. _

There was a small "Ahem," behind him and Clark turned to find Margaret leaning against her doorframe, a small smile gracing her lips. "Well don't you look dashing," she grinned.

Clark struggled to find words. Only one other woman had left Superman breathless like this. Margaret was a pretty girl, but tonight she looked _beautiful_. She was wearing a deep emerald green dress that slid over her skin into silver jewelled cinches at her shoulders and her hair was curled and fixed into a messy up-do with wispy tendrils escaping to touch her neck and cheeks.

Clark simply stared for a moment before remembering he needed to speak. "You look… lovely," he settled on finally and grinned inwardly at the blush on Margaret's cheeks. _She mustn't get complimented much_, he decided, reflecting that Margaret blushed _every _time he payed attention to her, both as Superman and the reporter from Kansas.

"Thank you," she replied. "Let me just get my coat."

Clark nodded and soon they were settled in a cab Clark had whistled down, on their way to Doctor Drumor's honorary ball.

"So do you know the doctor well?" Clark asked.

Margaret nodded. "Yeah, he's been my teacher for three years. He's actually the man who allowed me to take medicine at the University of Metropolis in the first place."

"Oh yeah?"

"I was doing an arts degree," Margaret explained. "But medicine had always been… a dream, you know? Something I never thought I could do. And then I heard they were running the admissions exams and so I thought I might as well give it a try… and I aced it." She laughed. "I guess I had been preparing for it subconsciously for so long that I _couldn't _fail, you know what I mean?"

Clark thought of the way he felt whenever he was up against a natural catastrophe or a villain like Lex Luther and completely understood. He _had _to win, to put it right, because the alternative was never an option. "Yeah, I know what you mean. So what happened then?"

Margaret sighed. "Well, the medicine department at Metropolis Uni are pretty exclusive and so an interview was part of the admission. The other members of the admissions board didn't want to let me in; they thought because I'd given up on my arts degree that I didn't show the dedication to take on medicine." She gave him a wry grin. "They were wrong and Dr. Drumor saw that. He convinced them to admit me."

"He must be a good man," Clark commented.

"The best kind."

"So, arts, huh?" Clark enquired. "Are all those sketches on the walls yours?"

She nodded. "Yeah, they're all mine – hey, how did you know I had sketches on my walls?"

_Damn._ "I saw one from the door," Clark said, thinking quickly, "When I picked you up."

She gave him an odd look but seemed to accept his response. "I should sketch you one day," Margaret told him, leaning across the seat of the cab to slide Clark's glasses off of his face. "You have great bone structure."

Clark smiled nervously and took the glasses from her hand, pushing them back on. "We're here," he told her and soon they were out of the cab and entering the brilliantly decorated ballroom of the Metropolitan Hotel.

"Wow, it looks fantastic, doesn't it?"

Clark nodded in agreement with Margaret's assessment.

"Clark! There you are!"

Clark turned at the familiar voice and spotted Jimmy Olsen moving towards him in a navy suit, camera slung around his neck.

"Jimmy, good to see you. This is Margaret," he introduced, gesturing to the woman beside him. "Margaret, this is Jimmy Olsen, a photographer from the _Daily Planet_."

Margaret stepped forward and shook hands with the young man; "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Jimmy replied, though he gave Clark a funny look. "Doctor Drumor is over there," he said, pointing to the middle of the room. "I've spoken to him already and he agreed to get the interview over with now so we can all enjoy the evening later."

Clark nodded and let Jimmy lead the way, placing a hesitant hand on the small of Margaret's back to guide her through the busy room. The way she smiled at him erased any doubts he may have had, though.

"Doctor Drumor," Jimmy was saying, "This is _Daily Planet_ reporter Clark Kent and Margaret – "

"Miss Moreton!" the doctor, who Clark thought looked like the kind old grandfatherly type, exclaimed, reaching forward and grasping Margaret's hand with his own. "How wonderful to see you."

The flash on Jimmy's camera went off.

"You too, Doctor."

"Been keeping yourself busy?"

"Of course," Margaret smiled. "I've just started reading Benton's _Cardiology: The Way to the Heart_. It's very interesting."

Clark watched Margaret's mouth lose the battle to stay un-quirked.

"Yes, it certainly is the most riveting of medical texts," Doctor Drumor commented with a cheeky wink. "And how did you wind up at one of these boring old Establishment parties?"

Margaret laughed. "Clark invited me, actually," she said, her hand resting on Clark's forearm for a moment.

"Of course, of course, Mr. Kent," the doctor directed to Clark. "I suppose you have some questions for me?"

"Just a few," Clark replied, "I don't want to keep you from enjoying your night."

The doctor nodded gratefully.

"Well, how about we get that over with now. A drink at the bar, perhaps?"

Clark looked over at Margaret who smiled and gestured for him to go with her professor, happy to mingle at the party until he was finished working. It didn't take long. Drumor was a genial fellow and the interview ended up a conversation more than anything else. Once Clark had gotten a good load of quotes to pad out his article with, they shook hands and parted ways.

He found Margaret over by the dance floor, watching the string quartet play their instruments with quick, deft movements, a champagne flute in hand. Clark sidled up close behind her and placed his hand on the small of her back. She turned and her eyes brightened when she saw him.

"Clark. How did the interview go?"

"Swell." She smirked a little at his use of the word. "Your Doctor Drumor is a nice man."

"He is," she smiled and turned back to the dance floor. She remained close, though, her bare shoulders skimming his chest. They stood that way for long moment, giddy smiles etched on both their faces.

"Would you like to dance?" Clark asked after a while, extending his hand to her.

"I'd love to."

He guided her onto the dance floor and took her hand up in his, leaving his other hand to wrap gently around her hip. They danced slowly to the music amongst the other couples.

"For a clumsy guy, you're a lovely dancer," Margaret commented, smiling up at Clark happily.

"My mum taught me," he told her. "She insisted that every gentleman should know how to dance."

"Wise woman."

Clark only smiled and brought her a little closer.

Hours later, Clark walked Margaret up to her apartment.

"I had a wonderful time, Clark," she told him earnestly, reaching up and fiddling with the lapels of his tux.

"Me, too."

With a gulp, Clark swallowed his nervousness and bent down, meeting Margaret's lips with his own. Her palms flattened against his chest slid up to his shoulders. She stepped onto the tips of her toes to bring herself closer and he wrapped a strong arm around her back to steady her against him. The kiss was sweet, soft and briefer than they both would've liked but when she stepped away she was smiling.

Margaret reached behind her to open the door of her apartment.

"Goodnight, Clark."

"Goodnight, Margaret."

She shut the door softly and he watched through the walls as she tossed her purse on the couch, floated into her room, twirled around in a circle and collapsed on the bed with a happy sigh.

When he got home, he planned to do exactly the same thing.

------------------

_Beep, beep, beep, beep_…

Startled into waking, Margaret sat up in bed, turned her alarm clock off and flopped back into the pillows with an annoyed groan. It was 7:30 in the morning and all she wanted to do was slip back into her dreams, but Margaret knew she had to get up and get to Metropolis Square Gardens. Every alternate Saturday, Margaret rented a space at the weekend markets there and displayed her sketches and paintings, offering on-the-spot drawn portraits as well. She shared the space with an old woman who sold jams and conserves and other baked goods, but this Saturday was Margaret's turn.

With a sigh she rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom, slipping off her strappy nightgown as she crossed over the threshold. Turning on the shower, she stepped in and let the last vestiges of sleep get washed away by the scalding water. Afterwards, she dressed quickly and brushed a bit of makeup on before calling a taxi. Together, she and the cabbie lugged all her paintings, folios and display boards into the boot and took the quick trip to the centre of Metropolis.

Setting up her stall, Margaret waved hello to Kevin and Sue Schumacher, who sold the organic vegetables that they grew in their backyard out of the city to her left, and caught up briefly with Esther Jones who sold jewellery and other handmade trinkets on her right as they waited for the rush of people to pour into the market.

Four hours later, Margaret was sitting opposite a brown-eyed woman who was paying Margaret for a sketch to send to her mother, who lived overseas. Her son – who looked to be about eight – was slurping on an ice cream from the gelato stall and browsing through her paintings. Margaret was glad they were covered in a protective sheet of plastic; she didn't like the look of his sticky fingers.

"You have lots of famous people here," the boy commented.

Margaret nodded, adding the final touches to the woman's picture.

"Yeah, sometimes it's hard to find people who want to sit for a drawing. Sketching from a photograph makes it a bit easier."

"So you use photographs of celebrities?"

Margaret nodded again and said, "Yep."

"How come you have no sketches of Superman, then? There are _heaps_ of pictures of him around!"

Smirking, Margaret shrugged; "I don't know, I guess I never really thought about it." She blew off the charcoal residue from the paper and handed it to a woman, wrapped in plastic covering. "He'd make a good subject, though."

"Do one, then!" the boy demanded with the innocent impatience of a child.

Margaret looked around theatrically.

"But he's not here!"

There was a great _whoosh!_ and Margaret's sketches fluttered in a breeze. The boy gasped and pointed at something behind her. She turned to find Superman, hands on hips and smirking at her.

"Hi," he said, not a little impishly.

"Listening in, were you?" she asked wryly.

"I was in the neighbourhood," he shrugged. "I heard an offer I couldn't refuse." He pointed to the chair were her subjects sat. "Is this seat taken?"

"You want me to sketch you?" Margaret asked incredulously, vaguely aware of the fuss Superman's presence was causing in the market.

"I hear I'd make a good subject."

She blushed a little and sat down, a little numb from shock.

"Okay, I guess."

She started with his eyes. Inhumanly blue, she knew she could never do them justice but thought perhaps with a little shading here, smudging there and a sharp stroke of deep black she may've done at least a halfway good job and moved on to his impressive brow.

"Another slow Saturday?"

Superman nodded.

"No damsels in distress to save from certain disaster this time," he smirked, eyes drifting to the growing crowd. Margaret knew it wouldn't be long until a news crew showed up. Superman didn't pose for street vendors at the Metropolis Square Gardens everyday, after all.

"How'd your date go? The reporter?"

Margaret smiled, a little ridiculously, and thought of Clark as she answered; "It was swell."

She didn't quite understand why Superman laughed so loudly, but when he stilled as if listening for something far off, she put her charcoal down and nodded at him.

"Nearly finished anyway; go."

He nodded at her in goodbye and took to the air in a burst of speed.

"Woah!" the boy from earlier exclaimed, "You know Superman!"

Margaret grinned.

"He drops by sometimes."

Before the boy could reply, a man jumped out from the crowd that had rapidly grown around Margaret's small stand and shouted, "I'll give you two hundred dollars for that drawing."

"Two hundred?" a woman scoffed, "I'd pay double that!"

"Six hundred!"

"Eight!"

Margaret looked down at the almost-finished sketch and back to the crowd.

"I'm sorry, it's not for sale."

There were mutters and groans from the crowd but still, she made more cash that day, sold more paintings, than she ever had before.

------------------

Margaret was struggling to juggle her multiple bags and display boards in her hands while wrestling her keys out of her handbag when a strong hand came from nowhere to relieve her of her burdens. Startled, she dropped her keys.

"Clark!"

He smiled down at her.

"You looked like you could use a hand."

Bending to retrieve her keys, she grinned and nodded.

"It's a bit much for one person."

Nervously, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him in a belated greeting, using a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. He leaned into her, unable to hold her in his arms due to the things he was carrying.

Settling back on her feet, she glanced up at him uncertainly before gesturing to the door. "Here, I'll let us in." Margaret opened the door to her apartment and ushered Clark in, nodding to a small table in the corner of the living room. "You can put that stuff there."

"Sure." Clark placed her things carefully on the table and turned to survey the room, as if he hadn't been there before. "Nice place."

"Thanks," she replied with a smile. "My roommate Jessica and I have been here for a couple of years now. She's in Europe though, for the summer."

He nodded and dropped onto the couch when Margaret gestured towards it, indicating he should sit.

"So I heard you had a pretty interesting day today, down at the markets."

Margaret laughed.

"'Pretty interesting' seems like an understatement," she admitted. "I never knew one person could cause so much chaos."

"Did you sell the drawing of him?"

Margaret shook her head.

"It felt wrong to even consider it, to be honest."

"Can I see?"

"Sure." She headed over to her equipment and pulled out her large sketching pad. Flicking through towards the middle of the book, she opened it up and placed the sketch on Clark's lap, sitting beside him to view it.

Clark had seen a lot of images of himself as Superman, both photographs that Jimmy and other photographers had taken and artistic renditions like the one before him now. They were all similar. Superman rescuing someone, Superman standing in his classic, heroic pose with a strong jaw and steel-like eyes. This, however, was completely different. Instead of drawing his face with strong, defined lines Margaret had somehow managed to soften his face, relax his pose as if he wasn't standing in a crowded marketplace, hundreds of people pushing to stare at him in awe. There was some kind of vulnerability in his eyes, yet also a strong sense of determination that Clark hadn't seen captured before.

"He looks…"

"Human," Margaret finished softly. Gently, she pulled the portrait from him and closed the book on Superman's face. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

Clark nodded.

"I'd love to."

* * *

** A/N:** I feel horrible asking any of you for anything, but please don't hesitate to review, I'd love to know what you think. 


	5. Chapter 5

In Arms of Red and Blue

_By katemary77_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for Margaret. _

_Summary: Superman saves a girl, stays for a cupcake and gets more than he bargained for. _

"Kent!"

The sharp bark rang out over the bullpen and Clark allowed himself to jump at Perry White's demand. He turned around to face Perry's office and caught a glimpse of Lois smirking at her desk.

"Coming Chief – I mean, sir!"

He stood from his chair and hurried over to Mr. White's office, no doubt about to be given his next assignment.

"Kent! Sit down. Remember that girl that Lane interviewed a couple of weeks ago? The one seen with Superman?"

"M-Margaret Moreton, sir?"

"That's the one. I want a follow up article."

"But chief, shouldn't Lois – "

Perry shook his head.

"She's working on the protests for the environmental awareness summit coming up next week. Besides, Lois is too involved to write objectively." Clark snorted inwardly at the irony of this. "She's likely just to cover the girl's interaction with Superman. I want this to be _personal_, Kent. Our readers want to know all about Superman's new girl – "

"But sir, I don't think Superman and Mar – Miss Moreton are actually involved – "

"What does she do for a living? Where is she from? What's her favourite band?"

_The Beatles_.

"What's her favourite colour? What kind of food does she like to eat?"

_Purple. Yum Cha. _

"Kent, are you listening to me?"

Clark started.

"Of course chief, I'll get right on it."

"Good. Lois has her address."

Clark nodded and ducked out of the office, heading over to his desk to grab his things. Looking at his computer monitor, Clark saw it was nearing midday. Perhaps he and Margaret could grab some lunch while he interrogated her for the _Daily Planet_. Keeping in mind what the chief had said, Clark headed over to Lois' desk, where the reported was tapping away madly at her keyboard.

"Clark, how do you spell 'activism'?"

"A-C-T-I-V-I-S-M. Listen, Lois – "

"Great Clark, thanks."

Clark sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose before trying again, this time lowering his voice a timbre.

"Lois, I need the address of Margaret Moreton. Perry's having me do a follow up article."

This got her attention.

"A follow up article? Why didn't he have me do it?"

Clark shrugged.

"You'll have to ask him."

"Whatever. Here's the address."

She handed him a piece of paper, then waved her hand dismissively, turning back to her work. Fighting a sigh, Clark shuffled off.

------------------

Margaret was jumping around in her small apartment, splashing vivid splatters of paint onto a slowly filling-up canvas. Painting wasn't usually her thing – generally Margaret stuck to charcoal sketching – but today she'd woken up with the insatiable urge to go a little crazy with colour.

"_I'm not the kind that likes to tell you just what I want to_!" she sung out along with New Order. It was totally eighties, but Margaret loved old music. "_Oh! I've lost you, I've lost you_!"

Margaret let out a slightly embarrassing, "Yeah!" when she recognised the next tune to come from her stereo; she hadn't listened to this album in a while. Just then, there was a knock at the door and she ran over, her happy mood making her skip a bit on the way.

"Greetings and salu – Clark!"

The tall, bespectacled reporter grinned when she opened the door and then looked at her a little perplexedly. Margaret looked down at herself. She was wearing a hugely over-sized t-shirt that read, "I heart Lloyd Dobler," and very short short shorts, had paint striped across her clothes and person and knew her hair was in wild disarray from the tight plaits she had braided it into the night before.

"Margaret." He was smirking now. "Is that Tears for Fears playing?"

"Uh…" Margaret hurried over to her stereo and turned the volume down. "I guess I was… feeling nostalgic?"

"I thought the eighties were a time most people wanted to forget," Clark laughed.

"Are you kidding!" Margaret exclaimed, "INXS, New Order, big hair, _Heathers_… the eighties was the time of my life."

"How very."

She clapped her hands together, musing inside that perhaps this man was perfect. Before she could respond, Clark had crossed the distance between them in a few long steps and was pulling her up to him for a long kiss. When they finally pulled apart, both were blushing.

"I'll get paint on your suit," Margaret murmured.

"I don't mind."

He pulled her close again and Margaret parted her lips under his, letting him explore her mouth and enjoying the sensation of being so close to his warm, big body. Margaret loved tall men. She was about 6 foot in heels and had lived the latter part of her life developing an extreme dislike to dating men shorter than her. It made her feel less feminine, too big for herself and nothing was better than having to arch her back to kiss Clark.

"Not that I don't mind the visit," Margaret began, reassuring Clark by running her hands over his shoulders, "But I didn't think I was going to see you for a couple of days."

"Actually, I'm here on official business."

She pouted.

"Can I take you out to lunch?"

Her pout turned into a smile as she said, "That's better. Let me clean myself up a bit. Take a seat."

Clark did so and watched as Margaret wandered into her bedroom humming to herself as she picked out something to wear. She wasn't directly in his line of sight, but she'd left the door to her room open and Clark fidgeted, knowing Margaret was undressing only a step away.

"So what kind of official business?" she called from the room.

"A follow up article. Perry thinks the readers want to know the real you so he sent me to find out."

Coming out of the room in a pretty, flowing skirt and a white top with her hair half pinned to her head, Margaret kissed him on the cheek and said, "I'm glad I'm giving the interview to you over Lois Lane."

"Me too," Clark replied as he beckoned her out the door before him. "Sushi?"

"Sure. There's a great place just a few blocks away, you up for a walk?"

Clark nodded in the affirmative and offered Margaret his arm. She grinned as she took it. When they reached the restaurant, they placed their orders and sat in a cosy booth in the corner of the room. Clark immediately pulled out his notepad and pen.

"Might as well get the business side over with," he explained.

"Well, Mr. Kent, what would the _Daily Planet_ like to know about me?"

"Not anything that I don't know already. I'll just get a couple of quotes out of you and we can enjoy our lunch."

He reached forward and brushed a piece of hair back behind Margaret's ear. She caught his hand and kissed his palm.

Margaret grinned at Clark; "Sounds good."

------------------

A couple of days later, Margaret was settling in to have an early night's sleep. The tenants in the apartment beside her had enjoyed a birthday party the previous night that had lasted until dawn; Margaret hadn't received much sleep. She was having trouble nodding off though and was simply staring out at the slowly darkening sky outside.

"_It was twenty years ago today,  
Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play  
They've been going in and out of style  
But they're guaranteed to raise a smile.  
So may I introduce to you  
The act you've known for all these years  
Sgt. Pepper's lonely hearts club band_!"

Margaret grinned and reached across to her bedside, flipping open her mobile phone as she got to it. She loved that song and her brother had shown her how to make it her ring tone before he left on holiday.

"Hello?"

"Margaret!"

"Jessica!" she exclaimed. "How are you? _Where_ are you?"

"Milan and let me tell you Margie, you were right! It's beautiful! And the men here are to die for, honey, how did you keep your hands to yourself when you came here?"

Margaret giggled; "Who said I kept my hands to myself?"

Jessica, Margaret's roommate and best friend, laughed.

"Of course, of course, you know I don't know how the Catholic nuns here stay chaste, I certainly could not do it."

"So where have you been? What have you seen?"

"Well, we went to London first and kicked about around there for about a week. Alison met this gorgeous Brit who I swear looked just like Jude Law and she totally didn't want to leave but I dragged my darling sister off to Paris, and just in time! There was this summer festival happening on the banks of the Seine, Margaret it was so romantic! I'm having such a blast."

"Have you been to Rome yet?" she asked.

"Yep, yep, we were there just yesterday. You're right, Rome is _dynamic_, and the food was to die for."

"Are you shopping up a storm?"

"You bet! I think I'm going to have to buy myself a new bag to fit all the new clothes I've bought. Oh! And I've been getting you some stuff too, a few summer dresses like I know you like and this fantastic bag that'll be great for uni."

"Thanks, Jess, but don't forget to buy for yourself!"

"Trust me, I won't," she assured Margaret. "So what's up with you? Typical boring summer in Metropolis?"

"Actually, I've, er, kind of met someone."

"Margaret you dog!" Jessica exclaimed. "Tell me everything. What's his name?"

"Clark," Margaret replied, grinning not a little stupidly to herself, "He's a reporter at the _Daily Planet_. He's from Kansas, originally."

"Small town boy?"

"You bet."

"Small town charm?"

Margaret laughed; "Something like that."

"What does he look like?"

"He's gorgeous," Margaret replied earnestly. "At least 6' 5", dark hair, blue eyes, Buddy Holly glasses, three-piece suits…"

"Sounds like your kind of man," Jessica laughed. "Slept with him yet?"

"Jess!" Margaret exclaimed, blushing hotly, "For your information, no, not yet. You know I don't like to rush into these things."

"I know, I know," Jessica replied contritely, though Margaret knew she was most likely rolling her eyes. "Listen, I should go, Alison wants to call mum and dad."

"Okay. Where to next?"

"Germany."

"Ooh, I loved Berlin, you will to! Drink lots of beer!"

"I will. I'll speak to you soon, Margie."

"Alright. Good night."

"Good morning."

Margaret hung up and sighed, curling back into her bed. It was good to hear from Jessica; her best friend had been gone quite a while and Margaret missed her terribly, especially at the beginning of a relationship. Every girl needed her best friend when she was starting something new, particularly Margaret. Jess always helped Margaret to relax, encouraged her to be a little less paranoid about men, help Margaret had needed desperately in the last four years.

With another sigh, Margaret closed her eyes and settled into sleep. Before she could close her eyes, however, she heard a soft _woosh_ and the curtains at her window ruffled in a breeze. The night was placid, though, and it didn't take Margaret long to figure what had caused the wind. Moving to the window, she saw Superman floating away from her building.

"Kal-el," she called.

He turned.

"Hello, Margaret. I didn't mean to wake you."

She shook her head, "You didn't. I couldn't sleep. How are you?"

He gave a graceful shrug of his shoulders and held his hand out to her. She nodded and ducked back into her room, grabbing a satin dressing gown to pull over her summer nightie. As carefully as she could, she climbed out of her window and onto the ledge. Hovering in front of her, Superman put a hand around her waist to support her as she stepped onto his feet.

"Where would you like to go?"

Margaret looked over the city. Far off in the distance, pale golden streaks were receding into the horizon.

"Let's chase the sun."

Superman smirked, "Okay."

This time, she managed to keep excited screams to herself as they swerved around buildings and over the streets of Metropolis.

"Faster!"

"Okay, hold on!"

Soon enough, Superman had flown them west and into the sun. The huge golden orb was still high in its descent. Margaret wasn't sure where they were. Could they have flown as far as Cleveland? Wherever they were, Superman touched down on a tall sky scraper and sat himself and Margaret on the edge of the building, facing the sun.

"How've you been, Margaret?"

"Perfect," she answered earnestly.

"Everything's going well with your reporter friend?"

"Yeah," she said, her grin infectious, "Everything's going really well. I haven't liked somebody like this in a while; the last guy I dated turned out to be a real jerk and before him…" She tapered off, a thoughtful expression Clark thought was a little sad on her face. "Well, I hadn't really seen anyone in a while."

As she was speaking, her hand went to her chest and Clark noticed a thin white scar carved into the skin of her upper right breast.

"What's that from?" he asked, voice softening.

"This? It's nothing," she replied quickly.

"Margaret?"

She sighed.

"It happened three years ago," Margaret said quietly, but he could hear her as clear as anything. "I was walking home from campus. It was late; I'd been studying for midterms in the library all night. Some guy jumped me. I, uh, thought he just wanted my money but he…"

"He raped you?" Clark wondered how the words had sounded so clear.

"He tried to," Margaret amended. "A woman walked by the alley he had me in, she called out, he turned to look at her and I grabbed this pepper spray I keep in my purse. When he looked back at me he got a full face of it. The woman called the cops, he got five years minimum for aggravated assault with intent to rape and I got this souvenir," she said, gesturing to the mark on her skin. "I usually keep it covered up."

"I…" he didn't really know what to say.

"Hey, I'm alright," she assured him, "Nothing bad really happened. Sure, I was shaken up for a while, didn't really like anyone touching me, but I got over it. I'm _fine_."

"I should've been there," Clark mumbled. "I should never have left. If I had been there nothing ever would've happened…"

"Nothing did happen," Margaret replied firmly. She shifted on her ledge to face him properly and took his chin in her fingers. "Kal-el, look at me. Superman is the stupidest name anyone could ever have chosen for you. I don't care that you can fly and jump tall buildings in a single bound, it doesn't matter. You're not infallible and for some reason people seem to think you are." She sighed. "The people in this world treat you like you're a god and I can't imagine what a burden that is. From what you've told me, you had no idea what you were going to find on Krypton. You had to look. Anyone would've. Stop blaming yourself for the mess humans get themselves into."

As Clark pulled Margaret into a hug, he mused that his mother would love this woman. He thought perhaps he could too.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks so much for your response, everyone, I love hearing what you think about this. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! The lyrics were from New Order, Age of Consent and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band by the Beatles. I've been in an eighties mood, hence the _Heathers _and _Say Anything_ references. Let me know what you think! 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I'm so sorry about how I've been updating, I'm terrible. I kind of drifted right away from writing and reading fan fiction but in my typical style, I've spent this morning finishing off this chapter instead of writing an essay for uni. I hope you're still interested in this fic, despite the massive break between chapters. Thanks so much for your reviews, you're all very lovely. This chappie isn't exactly G rated so if you're a youngen, turn away! Hope you enjoy it.

In Arms of Red and Blue

_By katemary77_

_Summary: Superman saves a girl, stays for a cupcake and gets more than he bargained for. _

"So how was work today?"

Clark sighed and took another bite of lamb masala. "It was alright." He and Margaret were sharing dinner at a tiny (but lovely) Indian restaurant. "Mr. White has Lois and me working together on the election campaign."

Margaret noticed the un-enthusiasm in his voice and commented, "You don't seem to enjoy working with Lois too much."

Clark shrugged. This was true, of course. Years ago, Clark would've relished an opportunity to be close to Lois Lane and would've have let her snarkiness and harsh comments just roll off him, but these days he found it more and more difficult to put up with her.

"She can be a little trying."

Margaret grinned and took another sip of her wine.

"So how come you don't work?" Clark asked, "I've never heard you mention a part time job, except for your stall at the markets."

"Well, my family's, uh, pretty well off," Margaret confessed, a little embarrassed. "When I was doing my art degree I had to support myself, but now that I'm doing something 'proper'…" She rolled her eyes. "Well, now my dad has no problem supporting me."

"So you and your father don't get on very well?"

"Most of the time, we do. I just think he's a bit of a snob, sometimes."

Clark smiled and was about to ask her more about her family when he heard – off in the distance somewhere – the sounds of screams and roaring flames.

"Would you excuse me for just a moment?"

"Sure," Margaret smiled.

As he stood to walk towards the bathroom, Clark swooped and kissed her at the corner of her mouth. She grinned as he left and fiddled a little with her napkin.

After a few minutes, Margaret frowned; Clark had been in the bathroom for a while. Another few minutes went by and now Margaret was really confused. When she looked over in the direction Clark had gone, however, she saw he was standing with his back to her, mobile phone pressed to his ear. As if he sensed her stare, he turned and waved, miming 'I'm sorry' and pointing at the phone. She smiled.

"Sorry about that," Clark said when he eventually returned to the table. "It was my mum."

"No worries," Margaret replied. "Is anything wrong?"

Clark shook his head; "Not at all, she just likes to check in."

Half an hour later, Clark was walking Margaret home to her apartment. Her arm was tucked through his and as she pressed against his side, Margaret felt tingles shoot through her body from the contact.

"Come in," she said as they approached her door. "Have some coffee or something."

As Margaret busied her hands with the coffee plunger, Clark took a hesitant step towards her, placing his hands upon her shoulders. Emboldened when she turned under his arms, he swooped down and pressed a passionate kiss on her mouth. Margaret's hands slid to his chest and he buried his own in her thick hair, cradling her head as she opened up underneath him.

Swiftly, Clark lifted her up onto the kitchen bench and moved in between her legs, pulling her as close as he could to himself. He was gentle, though, always aware that one wrong move could hurt her. When one of Clark's roaming hands brushed against her breast, Margaret gasped into his mouth and they broke away from each other.

"I'm sorry, was I – "

Margaret shook her head and kissed him very softly, very deliberately, on his bottom lip.

"You don't have to go home tonight."

Clark felt a warmth pool deep in his heart.

"Are you sure?"

She didn't even hesitate. Margaret slid from the bench and took his hands, leading him into her bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Slowly, her trembling hands moved to his neck and loosened his tie before undoing his shirt button by button. Clark stood still and watched her. Her hair was mussed, no doubt from the fingers he had combed through it, and there was a pink blush on her cheeks. Her pale blue eyes were focussed entirely on what she was doing and Clark wondered if perhaps she was too nervous to look at him directly.

Finally, she was done and she slid Clark's shirt off his shoulders, letting it crumple to the floor. Margaret let a hand run the length of his torso. She looked up at him.

"You're beautiful."

Clark's large hands captured her face, before sliding down her body to the hem of her dress, which he lifted easily. Wrapping his hands around her bare waist, Clark picked her up and moved them both to the bed.

"So are you."

--

Margaret had never felt so content. After a night spent making love with the man she was pretty sure she was falling head over heels for, drifting to sleep across his broad, beautiful chest and snuggled in his strong arms was the safest she'd ever felt, even in the red and blue arms of a superhero. At one point in the night, a noise outside on the street had woken her and she'd been sure Clark was gone. She'd closed her eyes, telling herself he was probably just in the bathroom or the kitchen, and a second later she'd felt his warms hands take her by her shoulders and settle her against him again. She'd smiled.

Now, though, with sunlight streaming in from the curtains she was sure she'd closed, Margaret knew Clark was no longer beside her. Grudgingly opening her eyes, she looked across at the bed. It was empty, the right side even _made_. She felt a dollop of dread sink into her stomach. Clark wasn't like that, was he? Margaret shook her head fiercely; of course he wasn't. He probably just had to go to work. Though she'd found a reasonable explanation, Margaret still felt a little upset and a little silly for feeling that way as well. She'd been looking forward to waking up beside him.

Suddenly, there was a rather loud bang in the kitchen. Margaret frowned and sat up in bed. Shortly after, a large figure appeared in her bedroom doorway.

"Clark!"

His face split into a huge grin. So did hers.

"Good morning, Margaret. I hope I didn't wake you."

She shook her head and hopped out of bed, a sheet wrapped around her body, and threw herself into his arms.

"I thought you'd gone," she murmured.

Clark shook his head and held her close, dipping his head to kiss her swiftly.

"I did go, but just to get breakfast. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, starving actually," Margaret replied, "Let me just get dressed."

A minute later, Margaret joined Clark in the kitchen and felt her jaw drop.

"Where did you get all this from?"

Across the table were brown paper bags brimming with pastries and a long French bread stick.

"A little bakery I know. Here." Clark handed her a styrofoam cup of coffee. She took a sip.

"Good coffee."

"Try one of the pastries."

Peeking into each bag, she finally selected a cherry Danish and bit in.

"Oh my god," she mumbled through her mouthful. "This is divine!"

Clark grinned again and quickly finished of a croissant.

"You have to take me to this bakery sometime, Clark." He nodded. "Are you going to work soon?" she asked, noticing his attire.

Clark brushed a hand over his three-piece.

"Yeah, I should leave now, actually. I told them I'd be a little late."

Nodding, Margaret set her coffee down and leaned into him for a deep, lingering kiss. "Dinner tonight?" she asked, a little unsure.

"I'd love to. How about that Italian place on the corner of Fifth and Edward Street?"

"Okay, I'll meet you there at seven."

Clark wrapped his hands around her waist and kissed her again.

"See you later. Enjoy your breakfast."

Fifteen minutes later, Margaret was still grinning ear to ear as she cleaned up the remains of her breakfast. Turning the paper bag over in her hand, Margaret read the address of the shop, intent on visiting the bakery herself.

"89, Rue de Rennes. What?"

That was strange. A French address? Margaret shrugged. Maybe the owners were homesick ex-pats who'd injected a little French charm into their shop. Scrunching the bag into a ball, she threw it in the bin.

--

Margaret had decided later that morning that with semester starting in six weeks, she'd had just about enough fun and it was time to get some study in. With that in mind, she'd lost herself in Metropolis University Library and read the day away, immersed in medical books. She knew that reading ahead for her next year at MU wasn't entirely necessary – in fact, it was rather difficult, she hardly understood the words on the page – but Margaret was determined to prove that she belonged in the medical profession, not only to her professors and her family but to herself as well.

Suddenly aware of the dimming light outside, Margaret checked her watch and cursed. She was meeting Clark in an hour. Hurrying to the counter, she checked out her books – ignoring the raised eyebrow of the librarian at the sheer size of some of them – and then struggled out the door and into a cab.

"246 Olivier Street, please."

"Sure thing," the driver replied.

"I'm in a bit of a rush so if you know any shortcuts that'd be great," she added, with an imploring smile.

The cabbie smiled back at her in the rear vision mirror and turned into a side street.

"Big date or something?"

Margaret grinned, "Something like that."

They chatted aimlessly for a few minutes before the car pulled up to the curb.

"Here you go."

"Wow, that really was a shortcut. Here, keep the change." She gave him a twenty, a bright smile and slipped out of the cab, hauling her medical books into her building.

Thirty minutes later, Margaret was assessing herself in the mirror. She'd changed into a navy blue dress that fell just passed her knees. It was short sleeved with a deep V neck and a cinch around her waist, from which the skirt fell, folds of material in an A-line cut. She paired a cream cardigan with cream round-toe heels and had pinned her favourite pair of pearl studs on her earlobes.

"Very fifties," she mumbled and brushed a hand through her hair.

She was two blocks from the restaurant when her mobile rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi Margaret, it's Clark."

He sounded a little down, so she asked him, "Is something wrong?"

"I'm running a little late. Perry wants our article for the Saturday paper so Lois and I need to finish it tonight. You sound like you're on the street?"

"Yeah, I'm on Fifth Avenue, just a couple of blocks away from the restaurant."

"Come up to the Planet, then. We shouldn't be too long. I don't want you sitting in the restaurant by yourself."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, you know the way?"

She nodded and then remembered he couldn't see her.

"Yep, it's hard to miss the big globe on top of the building."

Clark chuckled.

"I'm on the sixty-fifth floor. See you soon?"

"Yep."

Only a little bit nervous, Margaret turned around and walked a block in the opposite direction towards the huge building that housed the _Daily Planet_. Pushing through the revolving doors, she smiled at security and made her way towards the elevators. The lobby was almost empty. Most of the Planet's workers must have returned home, she thought. Shortly, the elevator doors dinged open and Margaret found herself looking at what Clark had called the bullpen, an open-plan mess of desks, coffee percolators and paper. It was completely empty.

"Um…"

Something tugged on her skirt.

"Are you Margaret?"

She looked down at a young boy with wide blue eyes.

"Yes I am."

"I'm Jason," the boy said, holding out a small hand which Margaret shook. "Mr. Clark asked me to tell you that he and Mummy had to go into a meeting and that you can wait at his desk. He said he won't be long."

_Mummy?_ Margaret pondered, confused. Wasn't Clark working with Lois?

"Oh."

_Lois Lane has a son?!_

"Oh," she said again. "Which one is Clark's desk?"

The boy pointed.

"Thank you, Jason."

Margaret kept her eyes focused on where Jason had pointed so as not to lose her way in the maze of desks which made up the bullpen. Because of this, she didn't notice the stack of outdated _Daily Planets_ in her way and – aided by her two-inch heels – tripped marvellously. Instinctively she threw out an arm to brace herself against the floor but before she could touch the carpet, a hand grasped hers and pulled her upright. The fluid response and the strength of the hand that balanced her almost had Margaret expecting to see a wide, 'S' covered chest. Instead, once she gained her senses, Margaret's eyes fell upon the wide-eyed, surprised face of Jason.

"Oh my."

Margaret bolted. She'd sign a bathroom sign on the way into the office and fled into the lady's loo. Once there, she hunched over the sink and hyperventilated. He couldn't be; he _couldn't_ be! But there was no mistaking that strength, those instincts, those deep blue eyes.

Superman had a son.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you liked it! Not sure when the next one will be updated. Just as a sidenote, I know some of you might point out that Clark usually has his Superman suit underneath his three-piece and Margaret obviously didn't find it. I tried to figure a way to get Clark out of the suit before she undresses him but it always seemed a little awkward, not to mention mood-ruining, so I guess maybe Clark has been thinking he might spend the night sometime soon and so was prepared. Thanks for reading!


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